


Gasoline

by GallicGalaxy



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'll add more tags later I'm very tired, M/M, One Shot, Songfic, Sort of a pre-asylum au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 21:19:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5263991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GallicGalaxy/pseuds/GallicGalaxy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Are you insane like me, been in pain like me?</p>
<p>(Songfic for Gasoline - Halsey)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gasoline

**Author's Note:**

> So I heard this song  
> And oh my god do I love it. You probably don't want to know how many times I've listened to it in the short time I've even known it. I had so many strong images and associations for this song that I knew I had to do something for it, so I decided that a songfic was a good idea. I spent some time deciding what fandom to do it for, since I considered writing a Fallout 4 songfic instead, but I thought that the lyrics as a whole fit the Outlast idea I had better. But this song is probably not going to disappear from my inspiration anytime soon.  
> I have really a lot of Waylon/Eddie fics, so I thought I'd do something different for once, and I've been meaning to write some Chris/Eddie or Chris/Miles lately anyway  
> Sort of a pre-asylum au, but not entirely before they were in the asylum, so it's more like early asylum.  
> As usual, I got a burst of mad inspiration at about the time I should have gone to bed and then stayed up way too late writing. So this may or may not all make sense.

_Are you insane like me,_

_Been in pain like me?_

 

Eddie was pressed against the wall, hands over the back of his neck, shivering erratically. It was the engine therapy, no doubt. It had gotten to him. Every now and again his entire body would be taken over by seismic shudders so intense that they could practically by heard as well as seen. It was pathetic, really, to anyone who might have seen him.

But he'd chosen a place where he knew that very few people were liable to find him. He was trying to hide.

Chris thought he should say something. It wasn't his problem, but for some reason he felt a tiny needle of pity sink into his skin when he saw Eddie curled into a tiny ball in a corner. Eddie seemed to be shrinking, trying harder and harder to contract into himself, hoping hopelessly that if he made his space small enough it would become a safe place.

Chris saw a little bit of himself in Eddie, there. 'Empathy' wasn't a good word to use in this place, but it was something like that. Empathy's smaller, less committed cousin, maybe.

 

_Bought a $100 bottle of champagne of like me,_

_Just to pour that motherfucker down the drain like me?_

 

Chris was hanging back, as he had been for a little while. He was hoping that Gluskin would notice him, so that he wouldn't actually have to engage Gluskin in a conversation. He knew that Eddie was a bit of a short fuse, liable to snap over the most inane of things. But hey, he could probably win a fight with Eddie if he had to. But he didn't _want_ to fight with Gluskin.

On the contrary. Some instinct he thought he'd lost was telling him to comfort Eddie, or at the very least to get Eddie out of that little remote corner he'd tried to take refuge in, and to somewhere that might've been safer.

Eddie made a tiny whimpering sound, intentionally or not, as he shivered again. His icy white hands twitched nervously over the back of his neck. Chris sighed shallowly and took a few slow, deliberate steps over, what little shadow he had in this light falling onto Eddie's back.

 

_Would you use your water bill to dry the stain like me?_

_Are you high enough without the Mary Jane like me?_

_Do you tear yourself apart to entertain like me?_

 

“Hey.” He called hoarsely. Eddie froze, unfolding himself from the little armadillo shell he'd tried to make for himself, and gazed over his shoulder with hazy eyes. He was seeing the world through a veil, a mist, a screened window he couldn't open. His eyes were reddened, the prominence of the tiny vessels in his eyes contrasting gracefully with the cold blue already present in his irises. His cheeks were shining in a watery kind of way, and there was a tiny burst of blood shining through from the inside of his lip.

The sight of it made Chris want to sink his teeth clear through his own lip and gnaw it off, turn his teeth into knives and cut everything away until he didn't need skin anymore. The bones in his spine tightened, and he felt a thin layer of ice coat the insides of his lungs. Now was not the time to be afraid.

He couldn't even tell that Eddie had been crying, and those spasms had likely been stifled sobs instead of shivers; he couldn't perceive anything over his anxiety. Eddie closed his mouth without saying anything, internalizing his blood.

 

_Do the people whisper 'bout you on the train like me,_

_Saying that you shouldn't waste your pretty face like me?_

Chris realized that he should get Eddie somewhere else before anybody important came along; who knew what they would do to him in an attempt to remedy this little undesirable behavior. Chris scratched at the side of his face even though it didn't itch.

“Look, I'm not gonna bother askin' if you're okay, 'cause I know you're not.” He grunted, trying to sound understanding instead of just cold and controlled. “But I think you should get back to your room before someone else catches you.” Eddie just held his hollow, haunting stare. “Do you need me to help you?” Chris offered, without thinking. Eddie stood up silently and unsteadily, with his legs still shaking to the point of nearly collapsing beneath him and the latent tears in his eyes making them shine inappropriately bright.

He practically fell over onto Chris' shoulder, and Chris practically carried him numbly back to a room he thought was Eddie's, all the while flicking at his lower lip with his teeth while thinking about not doing it.

 

_And all the people say,_

“ _You can't wake up; this is not a dream!”_

 

The first thing Eddie did was sit down on his bed, lay back, and sigh deeply. He lifted his hands and stared at them, spearing his fingers and watching them tremble. “I'm still dreaming.” He whispered distantly.

“I wish.” Chris replied, in the exact same thoughtless, defeated tone of voice. Eddie almost chuckled at this as he laid his hands back down. “Wouldn't it be great if this were all a dream?” Chris asked rhetorically, speaking to the ceiling. A moment of gray silence followed.

“Why did you help me?”

 

“ _You're part of a machine; you are not a human being!”_

 

“I don't know.” Chris answered, as honestly as possible. “I suppose you just reminded me a little too much of myself there.” Eddie just blinked slowly. “Scared, hurt, ravaged by...the therapy. The engine.” Chris rasped, leaning over and crossing his arms, still not looking back at Gluskin's eyes. “I thought I was done being a cog in the machine when I left Afghanistan.” Chris growled bitterly.

“But I never even stopped.” He sighed loudly. “It just stuck with me. They carve it all into so deeply and then expect it to wash off when...when you come home to memories that aren't like you remember them.” He rubbed his face again, taking deep, slow breaths. It felt like someone was playing his spinal column like a washboard, running some cold force up and down over the ridges in the vertebrae to create a sort of throbbing sensation. He suddenly thought it best to direct the conversation back towards Eddie's problems.

“I know the engine hurts you; you don't...do well in there. It scares you.” Chris murmured, sitting back up as though his voice being closer to Eddie would somehow compensate for the comfort he couldn't provide.

“No...” Eddie whispered. “You're wrong. I have the...the utmost control...” He choked on his very words, whatever he'd had prepared to complete his sentence disappearing back down his throat.

 

“ _With your face all made up, living on a screen;”_

 

“Come on, I know it's all a goddamn act. Everyone does.” Chris growled, suddenly deciding to face Eddie at last. “You say what you think everyone wants to hear, even if not a word of it is true.” He glared harshly at Eddie, leaning back against the mattress. “And you know why you do that?” He prompted. Eddie just set his jaw and glared in return. “You do it 'cause someone taught you to.” Chris answered his own question, his voice softening abruptly.

“Because someone trained you to sit up and beg a long time ago, and now you can't get it out of your head.” Chris muttered, his voice losing its power and the fire in his eyes fizzling out abruptly.

 

“ _Low on self esteem, so you run on gasoline.”_

 

“Shut up.” Eddie snapped, his eyes sparking the very moment Chris' began to dull. He could not have more clearly broadcast that Chris was right, that his insecurities and fears had just been struck like a raw nerve. But that wasn't what Chris was concerned with.

“You think that if you lie, everyone will get along. They won't keep asking questions, and they'll leave you alone.” He rambled, knowing it would just make Eddie angrier.

“I said _shut up_.” Eddie snarled, the tightness of his throat evident in how strained his speech was. He was on the brink of crying again, and Chris smiled sadly. He really was the worst at helping people.

 

_I think there's a flaw in my code;_

_These voices won't leave me alone._

 

“I'm not trying to hurt you.” Chris breathed, his voice heavy with remorse. “I just want to understand you.”

“Yes, of course!” Eddie spat, wrath curling his lips. His lower lip rubbed against his teeth and bled a little more, a trickle of crimson falling on the outside of his mouth. “Of course you do! That's what they all say, isn't it? Right before they open you up and tear you apart!” His eyes were almost glowing with anger, and his massive hands were already balling into fists.

“Hey, calm down.” Chris commanded gruffly. The irony of said statement was in no way lost on him. Eddie growled with the very back of his throat and swung his fist anyway.

 

_Well my heart is gold,_

_And my hands are cold._

 

Chris seized Eddie by his wrist, managing to hold back the powerful threat of his fist. Eddie's hands felt so cold, so dead almost, like he'd ceased to be truly alive a long time ago and Chris really was fighting with a robot. He held Eddie still even as he felt that threatening hand start to shake once more, the taught tendons in his wrist going slack as his fingers loosened their deathly hold on the air.

“I don't know what you've been through, remember.” Chris told him, softly and gently at last. Eddie released the remainder of his tension on a drawn-out, uneven breath. “Stand down, Gluskin.” Chris ordered, releasing Eddie very gradually. Eddie buried his face in his cold, cold hands.

 

_Are you deranged like me?_

_Are you strange like me?_

_Lighting matches just to swallow up the flame like me?_

 

And cried. He sobbed loudly, pathetically, his husky, masculine voice dissolving into swift, arcing high notes. Chris placed a hand on Eddie's shoulder, stroking his back lightly with his thumb. He didn't know whether or not to get any closer.

So he did. He laid his head against Eddie's shoulder, though he had to angle himself a little awkwardly to do so. One of Eddie's uncertain hands darted towards him, looking for something unknown. Chris silently took Eddie's hand and gripped it firmly, finally feeling like he might've been doing something right.

Eddie pressed their foreheads together, his stinging eyes still closed as tears burst forth from them. Chris succumbed to the warmth of Eddie's body, so familiar and yet so unfamiliar, a kind of feeling so long withheld from him, and the sound of his charmingly uneven breath. He kissed Eddie, softly, slowly, tenderly, as though he had nothing else to do in the world.

 

_Do you call yourself a fucking hurricane like me?_

_Pointing fingers 'cause you'll never take the blame like me?_

 

Their kiss tasted like blood. The inside of Eddie's lip was still bleeding a little, but Chris didn't let it distract him. When they broke, he felt oddly warm, almost like he was happy. Eddie nuzzled him affectionately, not sure why he'd done that, but still not uttering a single note in protest.

“We're a lot alike, you and me.” Chris sighed, keeping his eyes closed and inhaling Eddie's human smell, rolling it over and over in his memory until he was sure he could remember it on anything. “Even if we don't want to be.” He whispered, wanting to kiss him again, to kiss anyone again because it had been so long since he'd held someone and paid attention to their smell and the texture of their skin, and the taste of their lips.

Eddie followed through, clearly agreeing, a bit more hungrily this time. Chris could feel him smiling a little through it.

 

_And all the people say,_

“ _You can't wake up; this is not a dream!”_

 

But when they came apart again, and Chris' eyes opened at last, and he immediately asked, “Do you need someone to talk to?”, again without thinking.

“Probably.” Eddie whispered. “But I'd rather kiss you again instead.” He purred, almost pushing Chris backwards as he kissed him for a third time, his body burning with unspoken desires. Chris responded by wrapping his arms around Eddie and actually pushing him over. The moment he was above Eddie, he felt a slightly panicked grunt from Eddie and a knee pushing against his stomach.

“You don't want it.” Chris murmured, a bit of a growl still hanging on to his voice. Eddie's chest fluttered, his breathing rate already faster than he would've liked to admit. He was afraid.

 

“ _You're part of a machine; you are not a human being!”_

 

“I think there's something you need to talk about.” Chris declared. Eddie was in a dead stare, like a deer fixed in the headlights of a car watching its death come racing towards it with lazing eyes. Chris hauled himself off of Eddie, giving him a chance to breathe. Eddie sat up immediately, straightening his spine and trying to hide the quickened swelling and abiding of his chest.

“I don't want to.” He choked, his voice catching on his teeth.

“Nobody wants to.” Chris retaliated. “But if you will, I will.” He offered, as welcoming as he could manage. “Maybe actually talking about what scares us will make us feel a little bit human again.” He added, raising an eyebrow.

 

“ _With your face all made up, living on a screen;”_

 

_“_ As long as you don't lie to me about it.” Chris declared as an afterthought. Eddie pushed his tongue against the wound on his inner lip.

“Okay. Okay, fine.” Eddie mumbled, half to himself. “If you'll...stay here. Tonight. With me. Just...just...” He sighed, his breath faltering again. “I just...”

“It's okay.” Chris murmured reassuringly. “Just come here and talk to me.”

 

“ _Low on self esteem, so you run on gasoline.”_

 

When he spoke, he could hardly control his mouth, and anything and everything poured from his lungs without reservation. Everything that he'd struggled to even think of tumbled from his lips before he's even realized he'd said it, and with his ear pressed against Chris' chest, he almost spoke in rhythm with that great big heartbeat.

Chris listened without any judgment, which was probably all that Eddie had wanted in the first place. When it came to be his turn, he spoke in much the same manner, telling lengthy stories with singed holes in them, going on and on even when he realized that Eddie had fallen asleep against his chest, and then he tucked Eddie's head under his chin and stood guard over him until he lulled himself to sleep without even clawing at his forehead.

 

_I think there's a flaw in my code;_

_These voices won't leave me alone._

 

But when he woke up, he felt warmth, and he pressed himself against it. The pain of being turned into a nonentity was just a little bit lesser for now, at the very least lesser than the wordless joy of sharing a bit of warmth with somebody else, even if it was just to remember that humans are warm.

 

_Well my heart is gold,_

  _And my hands are cold._


End file.
